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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953447">reckless</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign'>YouAreMyDesign</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asphyxiation, Bottom Will Graham, COVID-19, Coronavirus, Creampie, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Near Death Experiences, Nesting, Omega Will Graham, Sick Character, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Knows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 14:56:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,644</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal has to survive. Will refuses to believe that he won't. But, oh God, what if he doesn't?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Wendigo &amp; Stag</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>reckless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He tells himself he can bear it. It's only a couple of days. He's well-stocked with enough food and supplies to last him a month. His nest is set up, though a little haphazard and squished because he built it mostly out of his dog beds (good luck trying to get anything on short notice these days) and they have all communally decided to keep sleeping on it and flattening the edges, but that's okay. He knows his dogs' scents and they're a calming influence on him.</p><p>This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. He started getting the shakes about three hours ago. His temperature keeps spiking and it's only through reminding himself that he hasn't been near anyone in almost a week, that he was screened and tested negative because he's technically law enforcement and they get the perks of being 'essential' – he's fine. He tested negative. He's not sick. But he's flushed and hot and sweating and he knows why but it's hard to rationalize that kind of panic with the other kind of panic.</p><p>He doesn't want to go into heat. There's absolutely no responsible reason to but drugs are scarce and people were panic-buying suppressants with their toilet paper and there isn't a doctor's office anywhere, or a pharmacy, that has them. He can't break quarantine to get them or make any calls to people he knows to try and source them. No one would have any ability to get them beyond his reach.</p><p>His vision started blurring around half an hour ago. Changing, to those deep oranges and bright whites of heat signatures. His dogs are a haze of sunrises around him, huffing lazily. His dogs haven't caught the disease, thank God, at least none of them have so far that he's aware of, and aside from that one dog up North there are no cases of dogs getting it that he knows about. He doesn't know what he would do if he'd endangered them, as well. They don't have the luxury of understanding things like social distancing and how to avoid viruses.</p><p>A tremor runs through him and he clenches his fingers around his phone, stifling a whimper behind his teeth. He closes his eyes, clenches them so tight, grits his teeth so hard a headache forms within his skull. He needs to stay hydrated, it'll be hard for him to move or eat, let alone do anything else, before long.</p><p>He wants to call his mate. Even hearing his voice, listening to him breathe and talk, would be soothing on his fired-up synapses and rattled chest. His heart is racing and it feels like he can't catch his breath. He licks his wrist and finds solace in the taste of his sweat – no loss of taste or smell. No shortness of breath, even though it feels like he can't breathe. He can. He's just anxious. He's afraid of drinking and making it worse. Afraid of eating in case the nausea comes back.</p><p>He's so warm he feels like he might spontaneously combust.</p><p>Doctors aren't supposed to get sick. Especially Hannibal. Hannibal hasn't been sick a day Will has known him. He's always been in perfect health, prime in both physical and mental fitness. But he caught it. He's sick. Will got tested because of the exposure before being put in mandatory quarantine. For the first week, Jack had a guy sitting outside his house to make sure he didn't go outside except the small freedom allowed him to let out his dogs or gather groceries from the porch.</p><p>That guy is gone, now, because Will is going into heat and omegas don't leave their nests when they're going into heat, and it would have been a mess of H.R. lawsuits if the alpha guarding him had smelled him and tried to force his way inside. Will would have killed him, for certain. Self-defense. Protecting himself and his nest in his alpha's absence to ensure no cross-contamination. Hannibal would be pissed if he smelled another on Will's skin.</p><p>But Hannibal is sick. The symptoms were mild until they weren't. He's in the hospital now and Will -. When he finds out who got him sick Will is going to kill them if the fucking virus doesn't get to them first. He hopes it doesn't. Hopes it does. Hopes they die slow and choking on their own weak lungs.</p><p>It's impossible to think, knowing his mate isn't coming for him. His heat will pass unsated, leaving Will sore and aching and the physical strain of an unmated heat could weaken his immune system and put him further at risk.</p><p>Hannibal has to survive. Will refuses to believe that he won't. But, oh God, what if he doesn't?</p><p>Will knows the statistics. If it escalates to ventilators, to intubation, so few people ever come off it. Hannibal is strong, he's in good health, but he's older too and God knows what kind of shit the virus is playing on his system with his diet and everything else. Will doesn't know what he would do if Hannibal…if he….</p><p>No. He can't think about it. But he has to, there's nothing else for him to think about. He feels like he's dying and he knows it's just anxiety and heat and the terrible loss of a bond being stretched so thin but he can't think about anything else but his mate, alone, weak, barely able to breathe.</p><p>He doesn't remember getting up, but suddenly the bracing chill of the outdoors is on his cheeks and his bare arms and feet. He shivers, feverish and flushed. Then he's in his car, and he's driving, phone abandoned and door half-cocked. His dogs will be okay. They know not to wander, they know he always comes back.</p><p>The drive to the hospital passes in a haze and as soon as he enters the building he's assaulted with the stench of decay, of sickness. He can't imagine how Hannibal stands it, how he used to bear it when he was a surgeon. There's a beta behind the receptionist desk and he stumbles to it, ignoring the gazes of alphas and omegas alike looking at him. He can feel the tension in the air, thick as molasses, clogging his throat. How many of them, he wonders, thinks he's feverish and dizzy and breathless because of the virus? How many of them know he's in heat?</p><p>"Lecter," he croaks. "What room -?"</p><p>"Sir, are you in heat?" the beta asks, taking in his golden eyes, his flushed and sweaty state. "You can't be here. You need to be isolating -."</p><p>Will snarls at her, loud enough that the alpha near him tenses and steps back, eyes flashing red. He bares his teeth at her, shows his fangs – he's not going to let them keep him away from his mate. It's stupid, it's reckless, but Will needs him and he's not going to take 'No' for an answer.</p><p>"I've been tested," Will tells her. "Where is Lecter?"</p><p>"Sir, you need to leave -."</p><p>Will snarls again, and shoves himself away from the desk. Fine. He'll find him himself. There are doctors and nurses dressed to the gills in personal protective equipment, and an alarmingly larger amount in paltry attempts at masks and gloves. He barely registers them, snarling at anyone that gets too close. He's slick and sweaty and can barely stand but he <em>will </em>find his mate and dares anyone to try and stop him.</p><p>"Security, stop that man!" the beta yells, and Will turns as a guard approaches him, wearing a mask. He can only tell because the dark blue of relative lack of heat across his face masks his heat signature. He lashes out and lunges, slamming him against the wall, and then takes off running. There are hazard signs he barely notices, but they tell him he's going in the right direction.</p><p>He freezes, when he smells it. His mate. He's here. He lifts his chin and breathes in deeply, blind and deafened by the shuffling of plastic feet and the rasps of the sick.</p><p>He finds it. The scent of his mate, sickly and weak, is nevertheless sharp, familiar and heavy on his tongue. He enters the room and finds it empty except for a single bed, and even though Will can barely see, he would recognize Hannibal in the dark.</p><p>He shuts the door and locks it. Works the back of a chair beneath the handle for good measure, and approaches his mate. There's the cool halo of a breathing mask over his face, his eyes are closed, his breathing that perfectly even rhythm of those that are being helped.</p><p>He whimpers, distraught at the sight but calmed by Hannibal's presence. Even being in the same room as him is helping. Hannibal's lashes flutter at the sound, at Will's scent, and he climbs into the bed and settles over his mate's lap.</p><p>"Hannibal," he breathes, and leans in, cupping his face and resting their foreheads together. The mask presses against his nose and mouth, robbing him of the chance to kiss, to taste. He resists the urge to tear it off. "Hannibal."</p><p>He's so wet, he feels slick dripping down his thighs. Being near Hannibal helps and hurts, his instincts, his empty stomach, screaming in outrage that he isn't put on his hands and knees, isn't already mounted. He pulls the blankets down from Hannibal's chest and paws at his clothes, helpless and uncoordinated and blind.</p><p>"<em>Hannibal</em>," he whines, and watches as his mate's lashes flutter again. They open for a split second, his lips parting, and Will pulls his clothes out of the way, reaches behind himself to shove at his soaked sweatpants and bare his hole just enough to get fucked.</p><p>Hannibal's nostrils flare, an exhale fogging the mask. He begins to cough and Will trembles, coats two fingers in his slick and lifts the mask for just long enough to shove his fingers into his mate's mouth. Unconscious or not, the hormones in his slick will cause Hannibal to react. An alpha doesn't need to be awake to knot any more than an omega needs to be conscious to get slick.</p><p>Hannibal's coughing eases when Will puts the mask back on him, and he licks his fingers clean. He's contaminated now, they won't be able to separate them. Let them try. Let them<em> dare</em>.</p><p>He hears the door rattle as someone tries to open it, and smiles.</p><p>Hannibal's cock is hardening, because he's helpless to resist Will and Will takes it in hand, strokes it until it's just hard enough that, slick and open as he is, he knows he can get it inside him. He shifts forward, careful not to crush Hannibal's lungs or diaphragm, and sighs as he forces Hannibal's half-hard cock into him. He's not as full as he can be, but it's a start.</p><p>Hannibal's lashes flutter again as Will clenches up around him, moving in a rough, desperate grind since Hannibal isn't hard enough to thrust. He grabs the pillows on either side of his mate's head and licks at his neck, marked with teeth, musty from lack of washing. He purrs and whimpers directly into Hannibal's ear, encouraging him to react.</p><p>"Come on, Hannibal," he gasps. "C'mon, alpha. Don't you wanna fuck me? I'm here. I went into heat for you. Aren't you going to do anything about it?"</p><p>Hannibal's hand twitches, by Will's knee. His fingers spread and dig into the creases of wet fabric.</p><p>Will smiles, baring his teeth. He bites down, a light nip over Hannibal's weak pulse. It's starting to pick up, he can hear the machine tick upwards in its rhythm. Hannibal's eyes open to slits again, hazy and blooming with alpha red.</p><p>"That's it," Will purrs. He slicks his fingers with what's leaking out of him and worms them under the mask again, shoving them into Hannibal's mouth. Hannibal's tongue twitches weakly around them, and he gasps as Will pulls them back out. He's fully hard, now, hitting every perfect spot inside Will. Will closes his eyes, tears of frustration and anger and longing building up behind his eyelids.</p><p>"Will." It's weak, but it's there. He opens his eyes and smiles, breathless. Hannibal frowns at him. "Will, what are you -?"</p><p>"You're not abandoning me," Will snarls. "You hear me? You're gonna get better, and I'm going to stay right here and make sure you do."</p><p>Hannibal's fingers clench. Will wants to imagine it's with more strength, that his alpha is settled and invigorated by his presence, but that's wishful thinking, and he has no reason to believe that. Still, he's going to, because the alternative is unthinkable.</p><p>"Will," Hannibal breathes, the sound breaking in a moan as Will settles hard on his cock and clenches around him. He drops a hand to his own cock, stroking quickly. The attempts at breaking down the door are getting more feverish, and it won't hold forever. "Will, you shouldn't be here."</p><p>"I am," Will replies. "Can't do shit about it now."</p><p>For good measure, he pulls Hannibal's mask from his face and kisses him, breathing in his contaminated air, drinking down his infection, his poison. He always thought kissing Hannibal was like an antidote, to his fevered mind and his empty, desperate body. Now it's quite literally the opposite, but he's hungry for it all the same.</p><p>Hannibal's breathing is weak, without the mask, rasping and ragged and uneven. "Knot me, and I'll put it back," Will snaps. Hannibal's eyes flash, he presses his lips together. He's already growing pale and weak from lack of sufficient oxygen. Will kisses him as his lips turn blue.</p><p>"Come on," Will demands. He tightens up further, rocks his hips, feels himself starting to bear down. He puts his free hand in Hannibal's hair and yanks his head up, constricting his breathing further. "Come <em>on</em>."</p><p>Hannibal's knot comes quickly, his eyes glazed and red with euphoria and lack of air. Will sighs as he feels it swell and lock, and replaces the mask with a bright smile. A second later, he works himself to orgasm, his belly warm and sated with Hannibal inside him.</p><p>The door breaks open, a sea of people rushing in with masks and gloves and protective gear. Will grins at them, baring his teeth. "I've been exposed," he says happily. The only move he makes to cover himself is to pull Hannibal's blanket up around his shoulders. He lays down, purring when Hannibal lifts a tired arm, wrapping it protectively over his back. "I'm staying."</p><p>One of the doctors growls at him, and Hannibal, weak though he is, answers it with a powerful snarl of his own. Will smiles, nuzzling his mate, and closes his eyes as the doctor commands everybody leave, with one last glare Will's way. Will is sure, once Hannibal's knot goes down, they can expect another interruption. He will simply have to make sure his alpha is constantly fucking him, until Will either gets sick, or Hannibal gets better.</p><p>Hannibal hums, after a moment, petting through Will's hair. "That was reckless," he said weakly. "Even for you."</p><p>"I know," Will replies, without regret. He lifts his head and nuzzles the plastic straps cutting into Hannibal's cheek. He sighs, and cups Hannibal's jaw. "You're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere. You have to be okay."</p><p>"I suppose I must," Hannibal replies, humor coloring his voice. "It's not impossible."</p><p>"There's something to be said for morale," Will tells him. "I feel better, being around you."</p><p>Hannibal smiles at Will, and Will smiles back, and kisses his forehead. He settles down with his nose in Hannibal's neck to wait out his knot, content, for the moment, with hearing his mate's steady breathing beneath his ear.</p>
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